I don't know what it means to sit in the crowd of a TED talk. I don't. I do know what it means to sit in the crowd of a TEDxToronto talk. It's beautiful.

A little over a month ago, I jumped a plane to Toronto after having been away for quite some time. It was significant for me – I was convinced I wouldn’t see this city for a long time to come. In fact, I was window shopping the world for someplace else to call home. The world is a big place, I figured – who wouldn’t want to explore the likes of Valparaiso, Ho Chi Minh, or Istanbul? How can you know, definitively, where you were meant to make hay?

The more I explored, the more I came to love everything which, prior to this trip, had never been known to me. Sometimes a city would lash itself to my wrist and drag me through it’s streets. Sometimes it would spin my head left and right, unrelentingly, in the back of a taxi. Toronto was reduced to a dot in the rearview. I surrendered my attention to all things new.

But dots are a funny thing. The more you jump from one to the next, the more you appreciate the origin. The original dot.

As my plane hit the tarmac in Toronto, this particular dot didn’t seem fit for a map anymore. It was now more like a pulse… something that required more space than a map could provide.

TEDxToronto gifted this pulse a stage and the speakers that day, a heart. The audience responded with 350 more. Hundreds of heartbeats – all of them in rhythm – a rhythm heard throughout 106 countries.

As I took in each call to action, I couldn’t help but see this pulse, our city, making vibrations across industries and global economies. Not just in that moment, but in the millions of moments before it, and the millions that would follow.

It was good to be home.